


Insurmountable Odds (CW RPF, J2 AU, R rating)

by electricalgwen



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: First Time, M/M, Ocean, Schmoop, Turtles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-08 11:38:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1939614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electricalgwen/pseuds/electricalgwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared is a movie star. Jensen is a turtle wrangler.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Insurmountable Odds (CW RPF, J2 AU, R rating)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://orangish-autumn.livejournal.com/profile)[**orangish_autumn**](http://orangish-autumn.livejournal.com/) in the 2009 [](http://spn-j2-xmas.livejournal.com/profile)[**spn_j2_xmas**](http://spn-j2-xmas.livejournal.com/) exchange. Prompts were "schmoop! AU fics, first-time, happy ending, J2 AU, something that involves an ocean/beach setting." Deep and heartfelt thanks due to [](http://affabletoaster.livejournal.com/profile)[**affabletoaster**](http://affabletoaster.livejournal.com/) for cheer-leading, and to [](http://apreludetoanend.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://apreludetoanend.livejournal.com/)**apreludetoanend** for providing a most excellent soundtrack for writing.
> 
> Obviously, this is a work of complete and utter fiction. It may be painfully clear that I know nothing about the world of movie-making. Or Chad.

Jared cares deeply about sea turtle conservation.

This stretch of shore is critical to their survival. Each spring, thousands of baby turtles hatch here and crawl down to the ocean, to grow and thrive and return the next year to lay more baby turtle eggs. This beach has been their home for thousands of years and now the evil condo development corporation wants to steal it from them. It’s up to Jared and sexy marine biologist Megan Fox to stop them.

“You’re so… passionate about this,” he murmurs to his scrambled eggs.

“Seducing your food again?”

A tray thunks down on the table. Jared makes a grab for his script as Megan’s huge and over-full coffee cup sloshes all over the place.

“God, sorry,” she says, grabbing a handful of paper napkins and dropping them in the puddle spreading between them. “I’m not really awake yet.”

“Coffee _inside_ you is good for that, I hear,” Jared says, drying off the back of his script. “Don’t worry, it already had ketchup on it.”

“Mm.” Megan’s eyes are shut as she inhales the remains of her coffee.

Jared smiles to himself and finishes his hash browns, reading over today’s scene one more time.

“I know the planet needs you. But _I_ need you too,” he emotes to his toast.

“Oh, Matt,” Megan mumbles into her Danish. “Tonight, we have a job to do. But tomorrow? Tomorrow is ours.”

Her delivery isn’t particularly good, what with the pastry crumbs and all, but Jared isn’t worried. She’ll pull it out when she has to. Plus, she’s going to be saying that line while wearing a teeny-weeny bikini top and he figures at least half the movie-going audience won’t be listening to their crap dialogue anyway.

He swipes the last bit of toast around his plate, mopping up spare ketchup, and considers whether he needs more eggs.

“If you’re going up, can you get me some more coffee?” Megan says.

The eggs are gone, but Jared scores some bacon and another piece of toast before heading for the coffee machine. He fills the largest cup he can find, leaving a couple of inches at the top – his script can’t take much more abuse, although he pretty much knows his lines by now – and is filling a second, smaller one for himself when somebody walks into his back.

“Mmmph,” says the person.

This is not a ‘sorry’ in Jared’s book, but he’s willing to make allowances. Not everyone’s as much of a morning person as he is.

“No problem,” he says, as he turns and starts to move away. But then the person behind him blunders forward, reaching for a cup, and opens his eyes. Jared is stunned into immobility, looking at the most gorgeous person he's ever seen. And he works in movies.

The guy has green eyes, perfect bone structure, and stubble Jared would really like to lick. He's almost as tall as Jared, which is saying something, and even his ancient floppy sweatshirt can’t disguise that he's built. He's wearing dorky little wire-rimmed glasses and his hair is going all directions in crazy spikes.

Jared cannot quite grasp how someone so fucking hot can also be so damn adorable.

“Shit,” the guy mutters, as coffee overflows and spills onto his fingers. He jumps back and sticks them in his mouth. Jared nearly drops his tray; he’s surprised he doesn’t combust on the spot.

Until said hot guy looks up, and sees Jared watching him suck his fingers.

Which is not creepy or weird in any way.

Jared ducks his head, curses silently, and heads to the table where Megan has managed to upset her orange juice. Fortunately Jared had already picked up an extra stack of paper napkins because after a week eating breakfast with a mostly asleep Megan Fox he knows what's what. He's not an idiot. He can learn from experience.

Except where it comes to insanely hot men with coffee fixations, apparently, because the next morning there the guy is again, and Jared again stares at him long enough that the guy notices even through his pre-coffee fog. It’s slightly awkward.

On the third morning, Hot Guy looks asleep on his feet as always, but he’s wearing a tight, faded t-shirt and no glasses. Jared forgets that his coffee mug was already half-filled when Hot Guy appeared in the line-up, and what with the extra t-shirt-induced staring, he lets it overflow and ends up swearing and jumping back to avoid sneakers filled with coffee. It’s definitely awkward. Jared avoids looking in the guy’s direction and hopes fervently that he still had his eyes shut.

On the fourth day, Jared manages to fill his coffee cup, and Megan’s, with no distractions at all because Hot Guy hasn’t shown up yet. Unfortunately, he’s halfway to the table and still craning his neck back towards the coffee machine when he collides with someone and spills hot liquid all over them.

“Jesus, ow,” says his victim, who turns out to have the sexiest voice Jared’s ever heard, to go with those insanely green eyes and lickable neck. Jared gabbles apologies and starts patting Hot Guy down with Megan’s paper napkins, then stops abruptly. It’s bad enough he maybe scalded him, he doesn’t have to molest him too.

“God, I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t see you there. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” the guy says. “I don’t navigate well in the mornings either. Usually someone just points me in the general direction of coffee and gives me a push.”

A lingering vestige of sense keeps Jared from blurting out that he was fine with mornings until a few days ago. That it’s lust, not sleep deprivation, disabling his higher brain functions.

The guy sticks out his hand. “Jensen Ackles.”

Jared grimaces, transfers the sodden napkins to his left hand, wipes his coffee-covered right hand on his pants, and shakes. “Jared Padalecki.”

“Yeah,” says Jensen, sounding amused. “I think most people around here know that.”

“Uh. Right.” Jared is never without words. Why can’t he make half-way intelligent conversation with this guy? “So, uh. I guess I need a refill. You?”

Jensen looks down at himself. “Think I’m gonna go change, first.”

Jared blushes. “Right, right. Sorry again.”

He sits opposite Megan, eats, stares into space, and fails entirely to listen to what she talks about all through breakfast. They’re finishing up his big computer espionage sequence that day, though, so he has to pull his head together and he really doesn’t have time to berate himself for stupidity until falling into bed that night, by which time he’s too exhausted to bother.

The next morning, Jensen is in front of Jared in the coffee line-up. He fills two extra-large cups, turns round, and hands one to Jared.

“Thanks?” Jared says.

“Thought it might be safer this way,” Jensen says.

Jared laughs ruefully. “You’re probably right.”

“You been down to the beach much?” asks Jensen.

“Uh, no,” Jared says. “They’ve mostly been doing the office scenes so far.”

Jensen shakes his head. “You’re missing out, man. They ever give you a break, come on over. There’s a road leads down from behind the storage warehouse.”

“Come over?” Jared says. “Do they have you camped there, or what?”

“Only during the day,” says Jensen. “They don’t make us sleep there or anything. Though I gotta say, I might try it soon. My neighbors at the hotel are loud and apparently inexhaustible.”

Jared winces in sympathy. “So what do you do? Are you, like, filming the beach and stuff?”

“Nah,” Jensen says. “I look after the animals.”

“Really?” Jared lights up. Anyone who works with animals is awesome in his book. He wonders what hideous flaw Jensen must be concealing. Nobody can possibly be this perfect.

“Feed them, clean out the tanks, keep them healthy,” Jensen continues, “and once we get to the beach shots, it’s my job to get them where they need to be and keep them from escaping. That’s the hard part.”

“Oh my god. You’re a turtle wrangler,” Jared says.

“Shut up,” Jensen bristles, but then he laughs and Jared keeps on talking and doing his best to make Jensen laugh again, because it’s a wonderful sound and also because he gets the cutest crinkles around his eyes when he does.

All too soon, something in Jensen’s pocket beeps; he checks the time, curses and takes off. Jared wanders back to his usual table, where Megan is tearing bits off a raspberry muffin and eyeing him speculatively.

“What?”

“Something you wanna tell me?”

“No,” Jared says firmly, and applies himself to his waffles.

 

 

 

That afternoon, Jared gets an unexpected break. Megan and her lab assistant/minion are having trouble with some scene involving tricky lighting, fragile glassware and dialogue full of scientific jargon; after the first several attempts, it’s clear this is going to take a few hours more than planned and the director waves Jared aside.

He drinks a bottle of water, changes into a clean t-shirt and shorts, and heads for the beach.

The road Jensen mentioned is rough, more like an ATV track, but it’s dry. His sandals kick up little clouds of dust and he squints into the afternoon glare, wishing he’d brought his sunglasses.

It’s only a few minutes before he’s cresting the dunes and looking down along the stretch of pale sand. To the left there’s a long, low porta-cabin, two trucks parked near the door. Beyond it, metal scaffolding holds up a roof of corrugated plastic that shields a number of large plastic or fiberglass tanks and pools.

He starts down the hill, heading for the cabin. Before he gets to the door, though, movement catches his eye and he looks over to see Jensen stand up between a couple of the tanks.

Jensen is shirtless, sweaty, and absolutely fucking edible. Jared nearly swallows his tongue.

“Hey!” Jensen calls. “Come meet your co-stars!”

Jared waves weakly – he doesn’t trust his voice yet – and heads over. By the time he reaches the shade of the temporary shelter, he’s got himself under control. Rather, he does until he rounds the corner of the large tank and gets a good look at Jensen in shorts. His _legs_. And _feet_. And… Christ. What the hell is wrong with him? It’s been a while, but seriously. Jared has never before lusted over someone’s toes so badly.

Jensen’s grin is wide and genuine. “Nice to see you, man. I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Schedule’s been moved around again.” Jared shrugs. “I’ve got a coupla hours, easy.”

“Cool.” Jensen gestures to the pools around him. “Lemme show you around?” Jared nods. Like he’d turn down an opportunity to walk behind Jensen and admire his ass.

“We’ve got some adults in this one. There’s a few more coming down later this week, they’ll go over there. We’ve had to borrow them from a few different places and I’m keeping them segregated. Gotta be sure they all get returned in good health.”

As they wander between the tanks, Jared’s awed by the amount of work involved, and the sheer number of animals. Jensen explains that for much of the footage, they’ll use the same few turtles over and over. For the dramatic final scenes, however, the director wants to be able to pull back the shot, showing hundreds of baby turtles crawling towards the sea.

“So we can all marvel at you heroically rescuing them from being buried by condos,” Jensen says wryly, “while completely ignoring the reality that only one in several thousand are going to survive anyway.”

They come to the largest enclosure, where the babies are kept.

“We got these from conservation or rehabilitation projects,” Jensen explains. “Wildlife officials find and protect nests. They excavate them after hatching occurs, release any remaining hatchlings. Sometimes they dig up eggs in areas that are under development and release the hatchlings elsewhere. We’ve been allowed to borrow them in the meantime, for filming. They’re hoping it’ll raise the profile of marine conservation.”

He leans on the edge of the tank, watching the babies, and goes on talking about turtle life cycles. He describes predators and food, nesting and migration, the way they breathe. Jared watches Jensen’s mouth and enjoys the cadence of his voice, although it’s doubtful he retains any actual information.

Jensen reaches down into the tank.

“Here, hold this,” he says, and passes Jared a baby turtle.

It’s tiny. Jared knows he has big hands, but seeing them cradling this little scrap of reptile, they look positively gigantic. He’s afraid to move in case he crushes it.

Jensen swallows audibly.

Jared glances up at him. Jensen is looking at him intently. As their gazes meet, he takes a step closer.

There’s really only one way this can go. Jared inclines his head and is about to start kissing the hell out of Jensen, when the turtle hatchling chooses that moment to scrabble across his palm.

It tickles and he bursts out laughing – then panics as he nearly drops the thing. Jensen leaps forward, wrapping both hands around Jared’s and securing the animal. Shivers run up Jared’s arms from the touch.

Jensen uncurls Jared’s fingers, gently takes the turtle from him, and places it back in the enclosure. He stands there for a moment, back to Jared.

Jared’s suddenly afraid he overstepped, misread things, presumed. He’s never wanted to be that guy: the asshole who assumes that because he’s a celebrity, he can stare at whomever he wants to, _have_ whomever he wants. Jensen doesn’t want him. Jensen was probably watching him so closely because Jared’s a giant klutz who spills coffee and drops hapless turtles.

He clears his throat, trying to come up with something light and amusing to say, but Jensen speaks first.

“I’ve got an office.” His voice is rough and low with heat. “Pretty basic, but the door locks.”

“Fuck, yes,” Jared breathes.

They’re barely inside the door before Jensen’s kissing him, one hand tangling in his hair, the other reaching past to throw the deadbolt. Jensen’s not shy; he kisses hard and deep, licking into Jared’s mouth, and crowds him up against the door. His dick is gloriously hard against Jared’s thigh as his hips circle, push, tease up against Jared’s own achingly stiff cock.

Jared moans and shoves his hands down the back of Jensen’s shorts, kneading his ass. They fall into a desperate rhythm, rutting hard against each other. Jared’s still trying to kiss Jensen but they’re basically panting into each other’s mouth by now. It’s frantic and sloppy and Jared thinks he really should at least try to get some clothes off, but he can’t let go of Jensen for long enough to manage. In a ridiculously short time, Jared comes, shooting in his shorts like a teenager. He isn’t too embarrassed, though, because Jensen joins him seconds later.

“Jesus,” Jensen mutters against his neck. “What you do to me. I’ve been jacking off all week dreaming of this.”

Jared laughs. “This? Man, you got low expectations.”

Jensen cuffs him weakly on the side of the head. “Shut up, was good enough for you.”

“It was fucking _awesome,_ ” Jared says sincerely. “I’m just sayin’. Think what we got to look forward to.”

Jensen peels himself off Jared and glances down at his sodden shorts. “Laundry.”

“Oh, fuck.” Jared realizes he’s looking forward to a sticky and public hike back to his trailer. He tugs at his t-shirt, trying to cover up, but it’s a casualty too.

“I can fix that,” Jensen says, unlocking the door and taking a quick look around outside. “Race you!”

He takes off running down the beach. Jared laughs again and chases after him. He catches up with Jensen just short of the water’s edge; Jensen turns and tackles him straight into the waves. Jared gets back to his trailer half an hour later wet, uncomfortable, tacky with salt, and blissfully happy.

 

 

And so it begins.

Jensen turns out to be from Texas, too, as if they didn’t already have enough to talk about. He joins Jared and Megan for breakfast the next morning and, after his first coffee, has them both choking with laughter as he recounts the episode of Renee and the ferret. He and Jared are both working hard through the days but Jensen’s schedule is more flexible; he’s usually free during Jared’s breaks to throw a football around or insult Jared’s sandwich construction abilities.

Jensen’s careful, though. In public, they’re friends. Good friends, fast friends, but no more. He drops by Jared’s trailer occasionally and they play video games with the door ajar. They fuck in stolen moment: quick handjobs in Jensen’s office, blowjobs after lunch. Every night, he comes to Jared’s room, quiet knock on the door, but they try and keep the noise down and Jensen always slips away before morning.

Jared’s grateful, but curious; they never really talked about it. He brings it up one night, back at the hotel. They’re sated and sleepy, lying back against the headboard, half-watching game replays.

Jensen shrugs. “You’re straight.”

“I – what?”

“Not a big deal.” Jensen wriggles his toes. “You’ve only ever dated girls in the press. ‘S okay. I work for Hollywood, Jared. I know how it goes.”

Jared’s silent. He’s never been ashamed of being bi. It’s just been… easier to stick with girls. He likes them fine, and it keeps his publicist happy. He’s had the occasional hook-up, a couple of short relationships with guys, but never anything serious.

Hollywood likes its leading men straight, and preferably available. Jared’s never found anybody important enough to rock the boat for.

It pains him, suddenly, to think that Jensen’s learned to be okay with that – that he’s used to being someone’s dirty little secret. Or maybe this thing isn’t that important to Jensen, either. Jared’s not sure which thought is more upsetting.

Jensen doesn’t look upset. He looks mostly asleep, actually; Jared starts petting his hair. Jensen’s not generally a cuddler, so Jared takes advantage of any opportunity.

He wakes up at 3 am, air cold on his bare skin. Jensen is gone. Jared pulls the blanket up, rolls over and goes back to sleep on a pillow that still smells like Jensen.

 

 

 

A day before full moon, they switch to night filming on the beach. First, they run Jared and Megan’s lines, while Jensen and his team set up invisible nets and get the turtles ready to release into the shot. It’s chilly and clear, only a few clouds scudding fast across the stars. Jared’s thankful for the cold, even if his balls are trying to crawl up inside his body. Watching Jensen in his wetsuit running around the beach, sliding in and out of the water, moonlight silvering the tips of his spiky hair… Jared’s got to spend much of this scene pressed up against a half-naked Megan and, well. He wouldn’t want her to get the wrong idea.

He’s huddled in a fleece blanket between takes when someone hands him a thermos. “Figured you could use some warming up,” Jensen says quietly, tone heavy with innuendo, but he’s gone again before Jared can respond in kind, or even say thanks.

The hot chocolate is tasty; the thoughtfulness warms Jared even more. It carries him through the next six repetitions and keeps him smiling even as Megan gets progressively grumpier.

It’s finally turtle time. Jared goes back to his blanket and watches as all the lights behind him on the shore are put out, one by one. Hatchling turtles navigate by light, crawling towards the brightest horizon; Jensen taught him that.

The faintest scrap of cloud leaves the moon. The cameras are rolling. The turtles are coming.

Jared watches in awe as they move along the beach, scrambling and tripping and stepping on each other, a seething mass of biology heading for the ocean.

He hears a tiny rustle behind him, and then warmth snuggled up along his back. “Keep watching,” Jensen whispers in his ear, and then a hand is working beneath Jared’s waistband.

He spreads his legs slightly, leans back against Jensen, sits there in the dark with the sky and the sea and the turtles, shivers and bites his lip and comes silently with wind in his hair and the tang of salt on his tongue.

 

 

 

Jared is in trouble.

Everyone’s thrilled with how well things are going. Filming’s – well, it’s never going to be ahead of schedule, but it’s far less behind schedule than anybody thought it would be. He and Megan have nailed scene after scene. The weather’s cooperated. Cameras haven’t failed, lights haven’t blown, and nobody’s broken anything. Things couldn’t be better; the end’s in sight.

Jared’s not ready for it to end.

This thing with Jensen is – he’s not sure what it is. When they’re together, it’s so damn easy. They talk, laugh, give each other shit; they play video games; they swim or throw a Frisbee or go running. Jared can sit in silence with Jensen, or be all manic and up in his space, and Jensen takes it in stride. He’s rapidly become one of the best friends Jared’s ever had. And if the sex were any better, it’d kill him.

It’s hard for Jared to remember what life was like before Jensen. He doesn’t want to imagine what life will be like without him.

Jensen’s easy to be with, but not so easy to read. Sometimes when they’re kicking back by themselves, Jensen looks at him, smile real and eyes wide open, and it seems like – well. It feels like there’s – something. Something big and more than a little scary and something Jared’s not quite ready to name, but something he very much wants. But if Jared looks back at him too long, too intense, tries to say something, that’s it; Jensen’s up and out of his chair, off on a new topic, throwing a cushion at his head, something. Anything, Jared thinks, to avoid talking. Like maybe, he knows what Jared’s feeling. And doesn’t feel the same.

Jared’s not entirely sure what he’s feeling, but he’s pretty fucking sure he wants Jensen to feel it too. He wants Jensen to stick around.

He needs someone to bounce this off, someone who will listen and give him decent advice and help him sort his head out. He needs to call Sandy.

Instead, for reasons that probably only make sense viewed through the bottom of a tequila bottle, he calls Chad.

“You’re such a fucking girl,” Chad says with his mouth full.

“Not helping.”

“Fuck’s sake, Jay. You’re fucking him, you like it, he likes it. He’s keeping it quiet. What’s the problem?”

“If I knew what the problem was, Chad, I wouldn’t have a problem.”

Chad snorts.

Jared sighs. “I’m just… I’m not sure what he’s thinking, here.”

Silence.

“It’s like, I think this might be more than just something casual, you know? Maybe something I don’t _want_ to keep quiet.”

Chad exhales loudly. “Jay. Man. That’s. You sure?”

“ _No_ I’m not fucking sure! ‘S why I’m talking to you!”

“And again I say, such a fucking girl.”

“Not. Helping.”

A weird sucking sound comes through the phone. Jared blinks at the receiver. “Chad? You being waxed or something? ‘Cause gay or not, I really don’t wanna listen to that.”

Chad ignores the question. “So go for it. Quit being emo and wasting my time.”

Jared doodles on the table with his fingernail. “I just… I don’t wanna go through the hassle of being out, if it’s not really it, you know? I’m not sure he’s that into us.”

“Then he’s an idiot,” Chad rejoins. “You’re fucking hot, Jay, and that’s from someone who is one hundred percent pussy-oriented.”

“Uh, thanks?” Jared says, “But maybe he’s looking for something more than that. Or maybe he’s not. Or maybe he is but he thinks I’m not. That I’m not really gay, or he’s just convenient.”

Chad groans. “Are you fucking done?”

“Uh. Yeah. I guess.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this.” Chad heaves a long-suffering sigh. “Talk to him, Jay. Make up your mind what you want, tell him, find out what he wants. It’s that simple.”

Jared blinks. “Who are you and what have you done with Chad?”

“Fuck off,” Chad says with no real heat. “Shit or get off the pot. Then either you continue having the Big Gay Sex – sparing my delicate ears the details – or you come down here and I take you to strip clubs where you cry in your beer.”

Jared hangs up and wonders whether the world is about to end, because he thinks Chad may actually be right about this.

 

 

 

Jensen isn’t at breakfast the next morning. He’s been supervising the return of turtles to their respective zoos and conservation preserves, and the last batch was on an early flight out. Jared only gets short breaks all day, not long enough to disappear down to the beach without questions, and Jensen doesn’t come by the trailer. Jared figures he must be busy dismantling the turtle pools or something.

He gets a text message as he’s washing off make-up at the end of the day. _Catching dinner w/ the guys. We’ll be @ Revolution later, join us if u want._

The arrangement is pretty standard. They usually go out separately with friends, meet up later or not at all until they’re back at the hotel. There’s an offhandedness to the text that makes him uneasy though. _If you want._

He wants. He will always want.

He shrugs into a clean shirt and heads for Megan’s trailer. She’s been raving about this little Italian place in town, and it’s definitely her turn to buy dinner. Including wine. _And_ dessert.

By the time they get there, _Revolution_ is packed. It takes Jared a while to find Jensen, who is clearly very drunk.

“You been here long?” Jared asks.

Jensen shrugs. “Not really. ‘S Ian’s birthday. Did some shots.”

Jared slings an arm round Jensen’s shoulders. “Started without me, huh?”

He’s not prepared for Jensen to flinch, shrug off his touch. “What’s up?”

“Too hot,” Jensen mutters. “Gotta get out for a while. Maybe head down the beach.”

Jared frowns. “You’re not swimming. You’re fucking wasted.”

“The fuck are you, my momma?” Jensen rolls his eyes. “Not gonna swim. I just need some air.”

Jared reaches out, puts a hand on his arm, and Jensen immediately pulls back again, face snapping shut, eyes guarded.

“I’m going out for a while,” he repeats, and walks away.

Jared turns back to the bar and winces. Megan has sneakily materialized behind him, and looks far too knowing for Jared’s liking. He avoids her gaze and signals for a beer.

He takes his time with it, but when he’s done, Jensen still hasn’t come back.

Jared has something to say to him.

The air outside is sweet and clean, wind blissfully cool on his sweat-damp skin. The waning moon is high and still bright, making the world into stark contrasts of black and silver. Noise and light spill from the building behind him, but fade by the end of the street.

His feet carry him down the path to the shore. He isn’t thinking about anything. He knows what he wants, he knows what he has to say. For the first time all week, he feels relaxed. Beyond relaxed; hollowed out, a space the breeze blows through.

The heat of the day lingers in the sand. Small wonder that sea turtles bury their eggs in beaches like this, keep them warm and hidden. He wiggles his feet, digging them in, feeling the tiny scritches of sand between his toes.

The tide is high now, maybe turning, and the waves are large.

He walks down to the enclosures. The office is dark. Jensen isn’t among the tanks either. Jared calls out but the words blow away on the rising wind.

He scans up and down the beach, looking for something, anything. Footprints. A silhouette dark against the sand.

No Jensen.

There.

Something irregular, something struggling in the line of white breakers.

Jensen is swimming for shore but the waves keep pulling him back. As Jared watches, one crashes over his head; he emerges, keeps swimming hard, but Jared can see the force of the undertow sucking on the sand and he doesn’t think Jensen can best it.

He’s running before he even thinks about it, snatching up the paddleboard that’s always been against the wall, tearing down the beach with his heart in his throat. He nearly trips over Jensen’s sneakers, discarded on the sand; he doesn’t bother taking off his own.

He charges into the waves, lies on the board and paddles as hard as he can, never taking his eyes off Jensen.

Jensen surfaces from another wave and sees Jared when he’s several yards away. He looks horrified.

“Grab on!” Jared calls, trying to steer closer.

“You fucker!” Jensen screams. “Get out of here!”

“Not without you, you dick!” Jared yells back. “I told you not to swim, I’m not letting you fucking _drown!_ ”

“I’m not drowning!”

“Fine, you’re fine! Just come in with me!”

Jensen ducks his head and dives. Jared’s mouth falls open in outrage, but then there’s a tug on the end of the board and Jensen is surfacing there, holding on and kicking strongly.

They make their way in, Jared keeping the board balanced on the waves, Jensen powering them to shore.

The minute the board scrapes onto the sand, Jared leaps to his feet. He holds a hand down to help Jensen up and is met with a death glare.

“That was fucking _stupid!_ ” Jensen yells. “You could have been killed!”

“So could you!” Jared yells right back. “What the fuck were you doing out there anyway, you fucking _idiot!_ ”

“I needed to cool down. I was fine!”

“You were not fine. You were in trouble! I thought you were drowning!”

“So call the fucking Coast Guard or something! Don’t go risking your life like that!”

“There wasn’t _time!_ It was _you!_ ”

The hungry sound of the tide washes back and forth in the space between them.

“Yeah, and who the hell am I?”

Jared isn’t sure he heard right. “What?”

Jensen spreads his hands wide. “Jared. I know I’m just a fling. I’m okay with that. We had a great time.”

“What? No!” Jared takes a step forward. Jensen immediately backs away.

“Movie’s done, you’ll move on.” Jensen clears his throat. “Look, it’s been cool and all, but it’s not like this was ever gonna be more.”

Panic is rising in Jared again, slow swells flooding in.

Jensen rubs the back of his neck, looks down at his bare toes, half-buried in sand. Jared follows his glance and remembers sucking on those toes, a day or a lifetime ago.

“I’m not – fuck, Jay. I’m not worth risking your life over.”

Jared stands there, just stands and looks at Jensen and thinks about life before Jensen and life with Jensen so far and what life might look like next week, next month, next year with and without Jensen.

His life is _exactly_ what’s at risk here.

He can go on being what the public wants, or at least what Hollywood thinks the public wants. He can keep dating the girls his publicist sets him up with. Or he can say to Jensen what he came down here to say.

He opens his mouth to start, but Jensen’s continuing. “I’m sorry, Jared. I can’t do this. It’s done. We’re done.”

Jared stands very still.

“Thanks for coming out here after me. But I’m fine, I’m gonna be fine.”

Jared isn’t fine. Jared’s not sure he’s ever going to be fine again.

Jensen finally touches him, light brush of hand down his cheek. It seems like there should be more to say but Jared’s lost, nobody wrote these words down for him. He’s drunk and cold and tired and Jensen is turning and walking away from him over the sand.

 

 

 

He moves through the last couple of days as if sleepwalking. They do some final shots, clean-up, re-run a few things. Megan brings him treats and gives him shoulder rubs. He’s given up trying to pretend with her.

“At least you found out now,” she says. “Before taking the risk of going public. You never know, people might have loved it, but you could have lost it all.”

“I think I have,” Jared whispers.

When they’re at the airport, heading their separate directions, Megan gives him a last hug, a bag of gummi worms, and her cell phone number. Jared ruffles her hair and his half-smile conveys all the thanks he can’t express.

 

 

 

Jared keeps himself busy enough over the next few months that he barely has time to brush his teeth, let alone spend time thinking about things not done, words not said, chances not taken.

He also doesn’t have time to date. This doesn’t bother him, since it’s not like he’d be dating the person he wanted, but it means that suddenly the movie premiere is staring him in the face and he hasn’t lined up anyone to go with him.

He takes the obvious route.

Megan sounds apologetic as she says, “Oh, Jared, I’m sorry. I already asked someone.”

“Sure, no problem. I just thought it might be kinda cool,” Jared says heartily. He’s trying to think of something further to say, something that doesn’t make him sound like a pathetic loser who doesn’t have a date to his own premiere, but the pause goes on a little too long.

He needs to get off the phone. “So, uh, I’ll see you there, okay?”

“Hey, wait!” Megan sounds truly concerned. “I know someone you can take. Really, Jared, she’s awesome. I wanna do something nice for her – it’d be so cool for her to get to go to this thing, and with the star of the show. She’s gorgeous, your people will love her. And…” Megan finishes, and Jared can hear the grin in her voice, “she’s a lesbian. So no pressure.”

Jared blinks. “Um. Okay?”

He hangs up the phone three minutes later with a bemused expression, a phone number for this awesome girl who is apparently a film student named Chloe, and Megan’s promise to get there precisely at 8 so the two of them – and their dates – can walk up the red carpet together.

 

 

 

Chloe sounds friendly enough on the phone, and only slightly awed to be talking to Jared. There’s a mildly awkward exchange as she thanks him for inviting her, but they get past that and exchange basic information and pleasantries. She tells him about her Ultimate Frisbee league, Jared tells her about Sadie’s latest trick, and he hangs up satisfied that at least he won’t be stuck with someone he can’t talk to. Not that talking is usually a problem for him, but he prefers it when conversations are two-sided.

When the limo picks her up, he silently agrees with Megan that she is gorgeous. Tall, built, wearing some kind of body-hugging satiny thing in a blue-green that matches the blue-dyed tips of her short spiky blonde hair. She looks kind of familiar, though Jared can’t place it. When he asks, she says off-handedly that she did a work-shadowing thing on the set for a few days, and starts talking about comic-based movies. They end up having an animated discussion about _Watchmen,_ and before Jared knows it, it’s 7:58 and they’re pulling up to the curb.

He gallantly offers Chloe his hand as she steps out of the car. She grips it hard as the camera flashes start, but it’s the only sign of nerves Jared can detect; her warm smile doesn’t falter. He squeezes back and then releases her hand, grinning and waving at the crowd. Microphones are being shoved at him; fans are screaming and jumping and flapping pens and paper towards him. He takes some and scribbles a few autographs; he says the usual things about how much he enjoyed working on this project and how he hopes they’ll enjoy it.

Chloe is pressed up against his side, so he feels it, when tension abruptly runs through her. He places a hand reassuringly on her arm and turns to deal with whatever it is, and then he stops breathing.

Megan is here, right on time, and she’s walking towards him arm in arm with Jensen.

They’re moving slowly – Megan is taking tiny steps in ridiculously precarious heels – so Jared has more than enough time to notice how incredibly perfect Jensen looks in his tux. Megan – might be wearing something pink; Jared couldn’t say.

Jared is trying not to telegraph _What the fuck?!_ , keenly aware of the reporters buzzing around them, but it’s taking all his acting skill to keep on smiling. Jensen’s gaze is darting around the crowd, avoiding Jared’s, while Megan looks like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, they draw level with Jared and Chloe.

Megan flashes Jared that multi-million dollar smile – and cleavage – and says, “Oh dear. I think somehow our dates got mixed up?”

Chloe looks shell-shocked. Her face is only visible to Jared for a moment, though, before Megan steps in, removes Jared’s hand from Chloe’s arm, loops her arms around Chloe’s neck and kisses her.

Very thoroughly and at length.

Jared can barely see for all the flashbulbs going off, barely hear for all the shrieks and yelled questions. _Now_ he remembers where he saw Chloe before. Talking to Megan between takes. Fetching her smoothies. Once, coming down the steps of Megan’s trailer, muttering something about wardrobe problems when Jared walked past.

Basically, lurking. Pretty much the same way that Jensen had been.

He turns to where Jensen stands beside him, wearing an expression that looks a whole lot like Jared feels: nervous, uncertain, but underneath, definitely hopeful.

He feels the grin exploding on his face. He really wants to grab Jensen right now, hug him and bend him back and kiss him senseless, hump his leg or pick him up and carry him in through the doors. Some big, grand gesture that says, _love._

But Jared knows himself, and what the press think they know of him, and that’ll just be Jared the celebrity, Jared the giant puppy, being goofy and overly affectionate in front of the cameras like he always is. Jensen will be written off as some kind of publicity stunt, and he’s not, he’s so much more.

He’s everything.

Jared holds out his hand. Jensen takes it.

Megan and Chloe finally surface. Megan immediately looks over at Jared and smiles even wider at the sight of their entwined fingers.

Jared offers her a little bow and gestures _after you._ Megan nods back, tucks her arm into Chloe’s and heads regally – though still slowly – towards the doors. Jared and Jensen follow, hand in hand.

Jared doesn’t much like watching himself on the screen. He mostly watches Jensen, profiled in the flickering half-light of the movie. Every so often, Jensen squeezes his hand. Jared telegraphs back, _I love you._ Jensen doesn’t understand yet, but he will.

At the dramatic conclusion, Jared looks up at the screen. He watches the baby turtles crawling their way down the beach towards the light and the water and freedom. He thinks about insurmountable odds, how only one in thousands makes it through, and how it’s worth the risk.

So yeah. Jared’s pretty keen on sea turtle conservation.


End file.
